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COPYRIGHT DEPOSfT; 



CRACK O' DAWN 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

MEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TOEONTO 



CRACK O' DAWN 



BY 
FANNIE STEARNS DAVIS tJLx^ 
(MRS. A. McK. GIFFORD) 

AUTHOR OF " MYSELF AND I " 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
191S 

All rights reserved 



Tro 

■^^^.s 



Copyright, 1913, 1914, by the At- 
lantic Monthly Company, Harper & 
Brothers, The Century Company, 
The Yale Review, Harriet Monroe 
for Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
The Curtis Publishing Company, 
and Perry Mason Company. 

Copyright, 1915 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1915. 



JAN 28 1915 
g)CI.A:393425 



:^ 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

=-Crack O' Dawn ........ 3 

"I Have Looked into All Men's Hearts" . . 7 

Profits 9 

The Poet Rebukes His Flatterers . . . .11 

"As I Drank Tea To-day" 13 

To a Coward 17 

The Recluse 20 

Rain in the Night 22 

Restlessness 24 

Ghosts 25 

The Year After 27 

Those I Love 29 

Escape 31 

"What if I Grow Old and Gray" .... 33 

Wind 35 

Sorrow's Shadow ....... 37 

"I WENT Down Into my Heart" • • • • 39 

Sorrow in Spring ....... 41 

Wings 44 

The Unborn 49 

The Mother 50 

The Children's Peddler 52 

Evening Song . 57 

The New House 58 

To Youth — in Secret Joy 60 

V 



VI CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Fire Fantasy 63 

An Old Song 68 

Home 70 

Wild Weather 71 

Dawn-Joy 73 

"Now I WILL Saddle the Swift Brown Make " . 76 

To the North 79 

Up on the Mountain 84 

"The Stars Go By" 86 

Storm Dance .89 

The Black Witch ....... 91 

Ride .......... 94 

Romance . 97 

O My Love Leonore 99 

The Changeling loi 

Hoofs in the Dark 104 

"What I Desire to Say" 107 



Thanks are extended to the publishers of The Atlantic 
Monthly, The Century, Harper's Magazine, Poetry (A 
Magazine of Verse), The Yale Review, The Country Gen- 
tleman, and The Youth's Companion, for their permission 
to reprint in this volume poems copyrighted by them 
in 1913, 1914- 



CRACK 0' DAWN 



CRACK O' DAWN 

Crack o* dawn! Red sun looks in 
Through my curtains white and thin. 
Sun looks in, and I look out 
At the sweet world spread about. 
Silver dew on lilac-tree, 
Meadow-larks desiring me. 
Hills that sleep along the dawn, 
Sense of wise stars just withdrawn, 
(Serious stars that hide away 
In the hot blue halls of Day.) 

No one sees me as I run 
Clear to meet the clear-eyed sun. 
No one hears me laugh and sing 
Many a dawn-swept dancing thing. 



CRACK O' DAWN 

No one knows my prayers are made 
Out of dew-pearl and leaf-shade, 
Out of lark-song and sky-breath; 
Simplest challengers of death. 

Crack o' dawn. The City still 
Sleeps behind my daisy-hill; 
Very dull, with shutters locked. 
Though the red sun knocked and knocked 
They would never ask him in. 
But the bull-mouthed whistles' din 
Breaks their heavy dreams apart; 
And they groan, and stretch, and start 
Grumbling up. 

ODawn! Ami 

Guilty of their sweat and sigh? 
Am I cold and hard, to run 
Free of foot to meet the sun. 
While the bull-mouthed whistles roar, 
And the drab-faced people pour 



CRACK O' DAWN 

Herded down the blank gray street,— 
Leaden eyes and leaden feet? 

Could I help them if I too 
Lost my sunrise leaves and dew? 
If I made my own dreams gray 
With the dust of day-to-day, 
And forgot the stars, and fell 
In that hideous barren Hell, 
Where, I think, my soul would be 
Hard for God Himself to see? 

Once I was a pagan, wild 
With the wonder of a child. 
Once I thought the City too 
Might go free of dawns and dew. 
Oh, I thought them stupid folk, 
With their crazy wheels and smoke, 
Swarming babies, huddling halls, 
Brazen laughter, sodden brawls. 



CRACK O' DAWN 

And their blind souls, — blind, while I 
Played the god with wind and sky. 

Crack o' dawn ! Red sun, I wake 
Singing for your splendid sake; 
Silent, for the City still 
Drugged behind my daisy-hill. 

Oh, but were I pagan yet! 
God! could I forget! forget! 



"I HAVE LOOKED INTO ALL MEN'S 
HEARTS" 

I HAVE looked into all men's hearts. 
Like houses at night unshuttered they stand, 
And I walk in the street, in the dark, and on either 
hand 

There are hollow houses, men's hearts. 

They think that the curtains are drawn. 
Yet I see their shadows suddenly kneel 
To pray, or laughing and reckless as drunkards reel 

Into dead sleep till dawn. 

And I see an immortal child 
With its quaint high dreams and wondering eyes 
Sleeping beneath the hard worn body that lies 

Like a mummy-case defiled. 
7 



8 '• I HAVE LOOKED INTO ALL MEN'S HEARTS " 

And I hear an immortal cry 
Of splendor strain through the sodden words, 
Like a flight of brave-winged heaven-desirous birds 

From a swamp where poisons lie. 

— I have looked into all men's hearts. 
Oh, secret terrible houses of beauty and pain ! 
And I cannot be gay, but I cannot be bitter again, 

Since I looked into all men's hearts. 



PROFITS 

Yes, stars were with me formerly. 

(I also knew the wind and sea; 

And hill-tops had my feet by heart. 

Their shagged heights would sting and start 

When I came leaping on their backs. 

I knew the earth's queer crooked cracks, 

Where hidden waters weave a low 

And druid chant of joy and woe.) 

But stars were with me most of all. 
I heard them flame and break and fall. 
Their excellent array, their free 
Encounter with Eternity, 
I learned. And it was good to know 
That where God walked, I too might go. 

9 



lO PROFITS 

Now, all these things are past. For I 
Grow very old and glad to die. 
What did they profit me, say you, 
These distant bloodless things I knew? 

Profit? What profit hath the sea 
Of her deep-throated threnody? 
What profit hath the sun, who stands 
Staring on Space with idle hands? 
And what should God Himself acquire 
From all the aeons' blood and fire? 

My profit is as theirs: to be 

Made proof against mortality: 

To know that I have companied 

With all that shines and Hves, amid 

So much the years sift through their hands, 

Most mortal, windy, worthless sands. 

This day I have great peace. With me 
Shall stars abide eternally! 



THE POET REBUKES HIS FLATTERERS 

Why will you trouble me with praise? 

Give me no praise. These songs I found 
Flashing like wings above my ways, 

Or blown like leaves along the ground. 

I caught a feather; crushed a leaf; 

And you applaud me. Let me be. 
You had no praise for that sore grief 

Whereof I got the mastery. 

You had no praise the time I fled 

Down rustling corridors of fear: 
You left me all uncomforted, 

With only God to cry ''Draw near!" 

Look ! at my side this moment stands 
My friend, who suffers and is proud. 



12 THE POET REBUKES HIS FLATTERERS 

He chokes his Life between his hands, 
Lest, hurt and crazed, it cry too loud. 

He makes me hateful of my fame: 

Hot-faced and humble: for he too 
Speaks softly, radiantly my name. 

And loves me till it stabs me through. 

Have you no little word for him? 

Can you not see how strong he is? 
Oh, what is all my music dim 

To such great reeling victories? 

Leave off your praise. Smile not on me. 

What say you? Are my songs so sweet? 
They are but wind-blown wizardry. 

Look there ! His blood-stained hands and feet ! 



"AS I DRANK TEA TO-DAY" 

As I drank tea to-day 
With a dozen women, chattering, gay, 
In delicate drooping gowns, in jewels like dew, 
Laughing, light-voiced, — I thought of a certain 

hunger I knew 
Hid in the heart of one, the merriest laugher there. 
I saw three Httle dull threads in the lazy dusk of 

her hair; 
Three little keen wrinkles about her beautiful 

shining eyes. 
And I wished I were not so wise. . 

I wished that I did not know 
Those S3ntnbols of pain: — that low 
Under her pride and sweet warm-worded address 
She was shaken with loneliness; 

13 



14 " AS I DRANK TEA TO-DAY " 

That the one great dream she had dared to dream 

was a lie, 
And half of her Life went wearying, "Let me die." 

I wished that I could not hear 

That murmur of mortal fear 
Through the clink of silver and subtle whisper of 

lace. 
I dared not look in her face. — 

Then I thought, (while I laughed aloud 

With my cup at poise,) "Ah, the proud 

Masques that we wear! We too, 

All of us, dancing through 

Some queer little pantomime each day, — 

Jewelled and gloved, deft-spoken and gay, — 

Ah, but God only hears 

All of the folUes and fears, 
Meanness and courage, breathed out and in 
Over these tea-cups' delicate din." 



" AS I DRANK TEA TO-DAY " 15 

Then I looked in that woman's face 

Over its pearls and roses and lace, 
And I knew that I need not fear to see 
Those little dull threads, those wrinkles 

three, 
Or hear the cry of her life. I knew 
We were all of us crying too: 
Crying with wonder or weariness, 
Too much love or too little. Yes, 
It was Life, just Life that we hid away 
Under our gossip and glad array. 
And that woman's laughter and pride. 
Shielding her heart, half -crucified, 
Seemed bravely done, — although 
I thought, "Must Life hurt, hurt so?" 

Till as I took her hand. 

Saying good-bye, the smooth words planned 
Choked in my throat. She stood there dumb, 
Folded my j&ngers and pressed them numb. 



l6 " AS I DRANK TEA TO-DAY " 

Knowing I knew. 

Ah, yes! I knew! 
All of us seeking, hungering, hiding too, 
In delicate drooping gowns, and jewels like stars 
and dew! 

So we all went away: 

A dozen women, chattering, gay. — 



TO A COWARD 

You have no right to spoil the sun, 

Blacken the blue and blur the stars. 

Is your fool's-face the only one 

That ever pressed Life's prison-bars, 

And found escape too bitter-hard? 

And cursed the great cold Gaoler, God? 

Then, crooked-lipped, pain-smirched and marred, 

Shrieked to the peaceful folk who trod 

The free street still, — "But look at me! 

I am so hurt. God hates me so. 

I know that all Eternity 

Is foul and false and bleared. I know!" 

How do you know? What right have you 
To show your shameful coward's face? 

17 



l8 TO A COWARD 

Have you alone run ruined through 
Hell's wide waste-hillocked torture-place? 
Have you a blood-sealed pact with Pain? — 
A secret tryst with Agony? 
Has no one else dared death, to gain 
The great brave soul, that wrests the key 
Of Freedom from God's Hand? 

Then swift 
To flee, beholds the door flung wide; 
And feels the Gaoler's fingers lift 
His face, and push his locks aside, 
While through his soul's last desperate 

dusk 
The great slow Eyes stare deep, stare deep; 
And Shame blows from him, like a husk 
Of Horror; and clean glories leap 
From those great Eyes to his, set free 
From all the foul and false and marred:- 
— "Thou! Who hast earned Eternity! 
Thou! With My Secret Keys to guard!" 



TO A COWARD 19 

You ! What know you of God, and Life? 
There festering to your prison-bars. 
Be proud! When you have won that strife 
You will not dare to curse the stars! 



THE RECLUSE 

I AM too much in love with loneliness. 

To-night, with secret joy I shut my door, — 

(This is a shameful thing that I confess,) 

But I desired no footstep on my floor, 

No friend to share my hearth-fire, and the still 

Warm hours, before the midnight chime swings 

clear, 
And the small owlet hoots across the hill, 
And I join hands with Sleep, cool-fingered, dear. 

I had no need of talk or song; no need 

Of love. Love would have hurt and frightened me. 

The wind went by; I heard the hlac-seed 

Dry- tipped, beat on the window stubbornly. 

And I sat glad and silent and complete. 

I had no need in all the world. My heart 



THE RECLUSE 21 

Purred like the great gray cat. It seemed so sweet 
To shut the door, on Life, — and sit apart. 

Life! this is shameful! Call me out before 
I die of loving loneliness too well. 
Send hordes of beggars battering my door, 
To keep me clear of happiness, and hell. 
Send me great love to hurt me. Send me fear 
And anger, God's fierce messengers, — for I 
Am swooning, swooning, in my fire-light here. 
Life! stab me! make me fight before I die! 



RAIN IN THE NIGHT 

Out in the night the great good rain 
Makes sweet the earth, makes strong the 

trees. 
— ^Let me be done myself with pain 
And hot unhappy mysteries. 

Let me not lie awake to-night 
With dreams devouring all the gloom: 
Wide mouths of hungry restless light 
Gleaming and gaping round my room. 

Dreams, from my soul's and body's stark 
And hollow red-hot caves of fear. 
(Oh, never a dream of leaves, a lark, 
A dawn- wind, sea-tides salt and clear!) 



RAIN IN THE NIGHT 23 

— Out in the night the good rain goes, 
Kind as my Mother used to be. — 
Oh, if in Heaven my Mother knows, 
God, send her back like rain to me! 



RESTLESSNESS 

Life with his chin on my shoulder 

Whispers into my ear. 
His voice is like winds, and cities, 

And seas, and sorrow, and fear. 

It troubles and wearies me always. 

Nothing he says comes clear. 
— Sharp chin on my aching shoulder! 

Strange murmurous voice in my ear! 



«4 



GHOSTS 

I AM almost afraid of the wind out there. 

The dead leaves skip on the porches bare, 

The windows clatter and whine. I sit 

Here in the quiet house, low-lit, 

With the clock that ticks and the books that stand, 

Wise and silent, on every hand. 

I am almost afraid, though I know the night 
Lets no ghosts walk in the warm lamp-light. 
Yet ghosts there are; and they drift and blow 
Out in the wind and the scattering snow. — 
When I open the windows and go to bed 
Will the ghosts come in and stand at my head? 

Last night I dreamed they came back again. 
I heard them talking; I saw them plain. 

25 



26^ GHOSTS 

They hugged me and held me and loved me; spoke 
Of happy doings and friendly folk. 
They seemed to have journeyed a week away, 
But now they were ready and glad to stay. 

But oh, if they came on the wind to-night 
Could I bear their faces, their garments white 
Blown in the dark round my lonely bed? 
Oh, could I forgive them for being dead? 
I am almost afraid of the wind. My shame! 
That I would not be glad if my dear ones came! 



THE YEAR AFTER 

Up and down my Garden the roses are a-revel; 
Up and down my Garden gleam golden butterflies. 
June-scent to the tree-tops floods the white air 

level, 
And June-sun to the rose-roots thrusts fingers warm 

and wise. 

O my red, red roses! my larkspurs and my lilies! 
(Yellow liUes leaning in a tangle and a swoon,) 
O, have you forgot me? for now the Garden still is, 
And no one treads the warm path I knew by night 
and noon. 

Red-rose-petals blowing, and rain-bleached in the 

grasses, — 

Red-rose-petals sHpping, slipping to be dead, — 

27 



28 THE YEAR AFTER 

Only wind may touch you: he hurts you as he 

passes : 
O, do you remember who kissed you once instead? 

— Up and down my Garden my Spirit runs a-tiptoe, 

Stroking all the roses, chasing butterflies. 

But she may not gather one blighted bud. To slip 

so 
Empty from her Garden, blurs her shining eyes. 

Spirit ! — Spirit ! — Spirit ! — 

Home, come home and leave them: 
Leave the petals blowing like little weary flames. 
Lest your ghostly presence, your pulsing shadow 

grieve them: — 
— Yet 'tis you, you only, who know their dear lost 

names ! 



THOSE I LOVE 

I COULD be glad and gay to-night 

If those I love were gay. 
But they have shadows o'er their sight 

I cannot sweep away. 

My body laughs and leaps and sings. 

I could go proud and sweet. 
But those I love have broken wings. 

Dance not! Dance not, my feet! 

I could have faith in God enough 

To keep me joyfully. 

But those I love must take the rough 

Dark way of doubt. Ah me, — 
29 



30 THOSE I LOVE 

Would God that they by trusting too 
Gave me my right to Faith! 

But how dare I drink heaven-dew 
While those I love drink death? 



ESCAPE 

Now since I cannot make it out: 
Why people love and lose and die; 

Why there is agony and doubt, 

And so much cause to brood and cry; 

Oh, since I cannot understand 

God's will for all the world, and me,— 
I will go take the wind's cold hand, 

And dance a little, foolishly. 

The hills are green and simple folk; 

The wind is quick with comrade-calls; 
White wayside apple-trees, and smoke 

Of woodfires, and bright waterfalls, — 
31 



32 ESCAPE 

They never bid me understand. 

They never say, "You, too, must die." 
I will go take the wind's cold hand. 

God knows, I cannot always cry! 



"WHAT IF I GROW OLD AND GRAY" 

What if I grow old and gray 
Who was once so gallant-gay? 

When my goodliness shall pass 
As the flower of the grass; 
When there shall be none to claim 
Friendship in my youth's dear name ; 
When my soul that leapt like fire 
Limps, too dreary for desire; 
When the door of Silence stands 
Open to my fumbling hands; — 
Though I almost make you cry, 
(You, still young and passing by,) 
Leave me proud and high and free. 
Never dare to pity me! 

33 



34 " WHAT IF I GROW OLD AND GRAY " 

For I make my journeying 
Far from every sorry thing. 
I have lived too glad to fear 
Any hurt or horror here; 
And I shall be glad once more 
When the Silence swings its door, 
And I enter in, and see. — 
Oh, you must not pity me! 



WIND 

The Wind bows down the poplar-trees, 
The Wind bows down the crested seas; 
And he has bowed the heart of me 
Under his hand of memory. 

O heavy-handed Wind, who goes 
Hurting the petals of the rose; 
Who leaves the grasses on the hill 
Broken and pallid, spent and still! 

heavy-handed Wind, who brings 
To me all echoing ancient things: 
Echoing sorrow and defeat, 
Crying like mourners, hard to meet! 

35 



36 WIND 

The Wind bows down the poplar-trees 
And all the ocean's argosies; 
But deeper bends the heart of me 
Under his hand of memory. 



SORROW'S SHADOW 

Some days, when I am dressed in shimmer-stuff, 
With yellow roses at my breast and hair; 

When just the air and sunlight seem enough 
To make the whole world delicately rare; 

When people love me, and I them, and all 

My heart is Hke a hill-brook's lilting call: 

Then, if I pass her, in her dim black dress, 
With heavy eye-lids darkened by old tears, 

I feel a sudden clutch of loneliness; 

I stare down vistas of unsparkUng years, 

And there behold myself, clad close in black, 

With tired brows, thin hands, and aching back. 

O Sorrow's Shadow! let me be awhile! 
Wreck not my happy yellow roses: set 

37 



38 SORROW'S SHADOW 

No watch upon my sudden cry and smile. 

Why should I not forget — ah, half forget! — 
That Sorrow's Self will meet me some strange day, 
And take my hand, nor let me dance away? 



"I WENT DOWN INTO MY HEART" 

I WENT down into my heart. It was hollow and 
cold and deep. 

There were statues standing apart in a folded icicle- 
sleep. 

There was beauty beneath their veils, wild beauty 
and terror too; 

But they were asleep, asleep, and knew not my 
passing through. 

I went down into my heart, to the altar the God 

built there. 
The lamp burned low to its death; the altar was 

dusty and bare; 
And the face of the God was blurred, and the gold 

of his fringes dead. 
I went thither to kneel and pray, but my prayers 

were slow to be said. 
39 



40 " I WENT DOWN INTO MY HEART " 

I came up out of my heart to the traffic and toil 

of the day. 
I had been but the wink of an eye, the tick of a 

clock, away. 
But I knew that I should not dare go back to my 

heart once more 
Till the statues waked with a cry and the God 

gleamed out from the door! 



SORROW IN SPRING 

Sorrow knocked at my door, 

Sorrow sat by my bed. 

I could not sing any more. 
The bird at the green lane's head 

Sings, and the Spring returns. 

Primroses revel in dew. 

Fire from the twilight burns, 
Soft stars, trembhng and new. 

Children shout in the street; 
Pedlars gesture and chaff; 
Linden-branches repeat 
Wise-wives' stories, and laugh. 
River runs to the sea; 
Boats swim brave on his breast. 
41 



42 SORROW IN SPRING 

(There is one boat whose free 
Swan-wings surpass the rest.) 

Would I might sail away! — 
Lock my door in the town; 
Lock in the dark old day 

When Sorrow came in her gown 
Heavy and soiled with ash: 
Knocked, and entered, and sate. 
My candles failed in a flash. 

The bread was dust that I ate. 

— Oh, to sing as of old ! 

Sing, with the dance of the day, — 

Sing, with the waters cold 

And the quick winds running away! 
— Never, never, again. — 
But I will be proud, not cry. 
Sunshine, children, the strain 

Of the harp-man loitering by, 



SORROW IN SPRING 43 

I will not hurt you with tears. 
Look! I will laugh! — 

And lo, 
Sorrow, — Sorrow, — she hears! 
She smiles! and she rises to go! 



WINGS 

Take down your golden wings now from their hook 

behind the door. 
The wind comes calling from the west, and you 

must fly once more. 
Oh, mine are grown too old to fly, my crooked 

wings and gray, 
But yours are glad with ruffled gold, and you must 

fly away. 

I found you far across the moors beneath a thorny- 
tree: 

The eyes of you were wide as stars above a breath- 
less sea: 

But frail you were and faint you were, and nowise 
gay and glad 

Save for the leaping golden wings your slender 
shoulders had. 

44 



WINGS 45 

And suddenly I led you home, and cherished you. 

I wrought 
Green robes like April willow-leaves. I coursed 

the hills and sought 
Strange jewel-seeds and pearly flow'rs to weave 

about your hair. 
Beneath my hand you bloomed and grew, fair as a 

flame is fair. 

I hung your wings behind the door lest you should 

fly away: 
(They being all of bubbling gold, but mine, — ah, 

withered gray!) 
I hung your wings behind the door, for secretly I 

knew 
Your golden wings, your wayward wings, they 

bode their time for you. 

And now, the cottage by the wood, its doorways 

shall be dark. 
You were its sunshine and its spring; its south 

wind and its lark. 



46 WINGS 

Your bed beneath the window-sill must lie un- 

warmed, unpressed; 
The briar-rose may bear no more her star-flowers 

for your breast. 

The dragon-flies across the pools may dart and 
drowse all day, 

Sapphire and stinging emerald, with slit wings 
silver-gray; 

The rabbit up the glen may leap, the rare thrush 
ring his chime: — 

But you will never come again for noon or twilight- 
time. 

— Take down your golden wings now from their 

hook behind the door, 
And tie them tight against your back, the bright 

thongs crossed before. 
The bright thongs strained across your breast to 

keep them straight and true, 
The golden wings, the wandering wings, that woke 

my love for you. 



WINGS 47 

The west wind calls, "Come forth! Come forth!" 

Look once within my eyes. 
Tell me, "I know you loved me well, but now the 

whole world cries!" 
Tell me, "You have been kind to me, but ah, I 

cannot stay. 
A million miles of sea and sun, they whisper me 

away." 

That is enough. I ask no more. I grow too gray 

to fly. 
I can but walk the sheltered woods to watch the 

year go by. 
The little cottage, dawn and dusk, shall keep me 

warm. And you — 
That I must give you back your wings too well, 

too well I knew! 

O Face of Youth that lit my dusk! Hand too 

light to hold! 
How should you wait? The west wind cries, who 

cried to me of old. 



48 WINGS 

Lean down. I tie the broad bright thongs to keep 

them true and straight: 
Your golden wings, your windy wings, that leave 

me desolate. 



THE UNBORN 

When out of the dark I come to you, 
A faint new spirit, blank and blind,— 
A bird too weak to search the blue, — 
A ship too frail to take the wind,— 

When out of the dark I come to you,— 
(You having called me from that Place 
Where I might sleep the aeons through, 
Lapped in the drowsy dark of Space,)— 

Then must you claim me for your own, 
Who seem no more your own than light, 
Across an upland pasture blown 
In the great solitudes of night? 

Body and soul, you live in me. 
Yet strange am I, and wild, and new. 
Oh, can your loving leave me free, 
When out of the dark I come to you?— 

49 



THE MOTHER 

And now, they did not need her any more. 
She heard below the shudder of the door, 
The quick feet on the path, and she was fain 
Only to snatch her sewing up again, 
And sew, and sew, seam over feverish seam, 
Hurrying in the dumb haze of a dream, 
Thrusting away the moment when her hand 
Should force her idleness to understand 
That they were gone, all gone, and at the door 
They would not call and claim her any more. 

Young as the morning, they were gone away. 
Whose kisses kept her hair from turning gray. 
Whose laughter kept her ready. Wherefore now 
Should not those wrinkles deepen in her brow. 
And she shut up her heart, and learn to be 
Of her bright self a queer dull travesty? 

so 



THE MOTHER $1 

And yet, the smile they left her must not die; 
For crying now, might she not always cry? 
"0 God!" she whispered, sewing, ''keep me! Oh, 
Thou only, over all the world, must know!" 



THE CHILDREN'S PEDDLER 

Up above the village roofs the white road climbs 

away; 
There among its maple trees the church stands cool 

and gray, 
And the Dead Folk all around have houses still and 

sweet. — 
But I — I go a-peddling on the dusty village 

street. 

Uphill, downhill, rain and sunny weather: 
Right foot, left foot, (faith, it's hard on leather) ! 
Dolls and balls and kites and chains, knives and 

knick-knacks — oh, 
I'm the crazy peddlerman that all the children 

know! 

52 



THE CHILDREN'S PEDDLER 53. 

All the village children shout and tag me down the 

street: 
Bobbing braids and freckled cheeks and bare brown 

dusty feet. 
"Have you got the marbles with the twisty glass 

inside?" 
''Have you got the gun that popped?" "And oh, 

the doll that cried?" 

"Have you got a sailorman with wind-mill arms 

and oars?" 
"I must buy a league ball, and a book to keep the 

scores." 
"Did you bring my box of paints? " They pull my 

coat and tease: 
"Show me how to fly my kite!" "And run my 

jig-saw, please!" 

Eager eyes and laughing lips and dancing dusty feet, 
So they cry and chase me down the maple-shaded 
street. 



54 THE CHILDREN'S PEDDLER 

And the grown-up people smile from window-sill 

and door, 
"It's the children's peddlerman, come to town once 

more." 

Oh, the grown-up people smile and tap their fore- 
heads wise. 

If they think me simple — well, I must be, in their 
eyes! 

But who'd peddle tins and tapes and soap and pious 
books, 

When there's heaven paid him out for knives and 
fishing-hooks? 

Uphill, downhill, every sort of weather: 
Right foot, left foot, (and it's hard on leather) ! 
None too much to eat and drink, shabby coat to 

wear; 
No, it's little wonder that the grown-up people 

stare! 



THE CHILDREN'S PEDDLER 55 

But above the village roofs the church stands cool 

and gray. 
There the Dead Folk lie at ease, and dream the 

years away. 
There beneath a sweetbriar bush are three gray 

stones I know, 
Worn alike, but one is tall, and two are small and 

low. 

When it's summer dusk along the lazy village street, 
When the children loiter home with tired eyes and 

feet, 
And the grown-up people say, "You little drowsi- 

head. 
Put your playthings straight away and tumble into 

bed!" 

Then they never see me climb the steep white 

crooked road. 
Underneath the apple-tree I hide my peddler's load; 



56 THE CHILDREN'S PEDDLER 

In the starry singing dusk I pass the churchyard 

gate, 
And beside the sweetbriar bush I stand alone and 

wait. 

Oh, there's nothing there to hear, nothing there to 
see: 

Only stars and village lights and tree that crowds 
on tree. 

No one answers when I speak; no one takes my 
hand. 

But I think they hear my voice; I think they under- 
stand. 

Uphill, downhill, every sort of weather: 
Right foot, left foot, (mighty hard on leather) ! 
Dolls and bats and blocks and stamps, knives and 

knick-knacks, — oh, 
Just the crazy peddlerman that all the children 

know! 



EVENING SONG 

Little Child, Good Child, go to sleep. 
The tree- toads purr and the peepers peep; 
Under the apple-tree grass grows deep; 
Little Child, Good Child, go to sleep! 

Big star out in the orange west; 
Orioles swung in their gypsy nest; 
Soft wind singing what you love best; 
Rest till the sun-rise; rest. Child, rest! 

Swift dreams swarm in a silver flight. — 
Hand in hand with the sleepy Night 
Lie down soft with your eyelids tight. — 
Hush, Child, little Child! Hush.— Good-night- 



57 



THE NEW HOUSE 

My little House is very young: 

No shadow makes it grave. 
With blue-bird-chintz and roses hung 

Its chamber windows wave. 

Here never blind-eyed Grief has knocked 

And entered groping in. 
The doors, that seem so free, are locked 

As yet to Death and Sin. 

Here only happy wondering dreams 

Walk nightly to and fro. 
They are the friends of white moon-beams, 

And simple as the snow. 
s8 



THE NEW HOUSE 59 

My little House is very young 

And very unaware 
That dreams are wrought and songs are sung 

In any subtler air. 

Oh might I keep its blue-birds bright, 

Its hearth still warm and gay! 
Oh might my House but know delight, 

And not be dark, some day! 



TO YOUTH— IN SECRET JOY 

Shut out the wind, shut out the gloom, 
Draw the gold curtains round the room: 
The candle-light sees well that you 
Are glad, as mortals may be. Through 
Your heart a secret fragrance blows. 
Like a June garden, when a rose 
Leans to the wind : the light-lipped morn 
Whispers, ''So thou! so thou — art born! " 

Oh, far away the haunted past 

With all its lonely spaces, vast 

And hollow as an echoing hall 

Of hateful dreams, where you might call 

And run, but never find the end, 

Nor window-slit, nor face of friend. 
60 



TO YOUTH— IN SECRET JOY 6i 

And far away the future. Far 

Its shadow as its saving star. 

(In truth, what stars shall shine? to make 

The sky still holy for their sake, 

When earth seems faded, and you know: 

"Soon I must go. Soon I must go.") 

So far— that dusk! Sit close, — and pray. 

You have been very glad to-day. 

Glad! — no one knows how glad. You keep 

Your dear joy sacred as your sleep. 

How could the hard world understand 

The warm light tremor of your hand, 

The flying flush, the dancing eyes. 

And how your whole heart laughs and 

cries? 
— You would as soon men saw you lie 
White in your star-lit room, as spy 
This secret. No, you need not speak, 
Nor move the hand that holds your cheek; 



62 TO YOUTH— IN SECRET JOY 

You need not whisper. Only pray, 
Because you were so glad to-day. 

For oh, you must remember this 
Deep hour of hidden ecstasies, 
Of fragrance and unearthly light, 
Of sky-swept wonder when to-night — 
Nay! but you know so well why you 
Are glad ! let only God know, too. 

Only that you remember. Pray. 
Sometime your Life may need this day! 



FIRE FANTASY 

Flame flies up in the chimney black. 
Here I lie and bid him come back. 

Here I lie, on the fox-skin, white 
As silver under the leaping light, — 
White and furry and kind and warm. — 
Out by the window scurries the storm. 

"Flame! crinkly curly Flame! 

Where are you going? What is your name? 

Is it a star you are flying to? 

Stay and tell me, You!— O You!" 

But the flame he never, never comes back. 
I He and stare up the chimney black. 
63 



64 FIRE FANTASY 

Out in the hall the great clock chimes. 
His voice is solemn as holy rhymes 
That good monks made in old cloister cells, 
Somehow charmed to sing in his bells, 
Out in the dark, all deep and low. 
Like sea-waves swinging to and fro. 

Here it is very still and warm, 

But out on the window batters the storm. 

If I were a ship, I would die to-night; 

If I were a bird, I would freeze in my flight; 

If I were a ghost, I would keep to my grave. 

— But now, I watch how the wide flames 

wave. 
Now, I dream of a thousand things: 
Summer, and sea-foam, and queens, and kings. 

Flame flies up in the chimney black. 

If I were a flame, would I ever come back? 

If I got to a star, I would never come back. 



FIRE FANTASY 65 

But there are no stars at all to-night. 
Up in the sky there is never a light: 
Only the souls of the flames, and they 
Are thin and nervous, and scudding gray. 
They blow, they blow, they shudder and blow. 
The wind he hates them and hustles them so. 

"Wind ! O Wind !— Are you mad? " But he 
Shrieks and is gone without answering me. 

Flame flies up in the chimney black. 
I am too sleepy to call him back. 

Now it is time to go to bed : 

Furry fox, my head to your head; 

Long warm fox, my back to your back; 

I stretch, I stretch, till my best bones crack. 

—I am so still with sleep, and warm. 

— Out on the window shivers the storm. 

Sleepy fire, now purr and fall. 
Great old clock in the dusky hall, 



66 FIRE FANTASY 

Chime for me; chime deep, chime low, 
Like sea-waves swinging to and fro. 

— I saw in my eyes a queer thing then. 
There was a woman with two tall men. 
She had a blue shawl over her head. 
One of them wore a cloak, blood-red. 
The other one had a sword. And she 
Was fair as an old-time queen to see. 
They had been travelling — far — so far — 
— But oh, in my eyes a falling star! 
Drowned in the sea. — And I saw a ship 
With square sails over the sea's edge 

slip,— 
I wonder — wonder — where. — 

Oh, then 
I saw — gaunt hills, and a black old fen — 
A wind-mill, — water. — I saw — I saw — 
Sun-burnt boys and a stack of straw. 
Yellow, yellow! and swallows flew — 



FIRE FANTASY 67 

— Was her shawl yellow, or was it blue, — 
Over her head — ? — 

Oh, I am so warm. 
Out on the window tumbles the storm. 

I am so sleepy — the chimney is black-^ 
Flame — flame — are you coming back? — 
Have you found a star? — are you coming back — 

Coming back — 
Coming — back ? 



AN OLD SONG 

And if I came not again 
After certain days; 
If no morning sun or rain 
Met me on their ways; 

If the meadows knew no more 
How my feet go free, 
And the folded hills forbore 
Any speech of me; 

If you did not find me here, 
At the door at night, 
And the cold hearth kept no cheer, 
And the panes no light; — 

68 



AN OLD SONG 69 

Oh, if I came not again, 
Would you miss me much? 
Would your fingers once be fain 
Of my wandering touch? 

Would you dream me at your side 
In the waking wood, 
Where the old spring hungers hide 
In blue solitude? 

Would you wonder where I passed, 
Into joy or pain? 
Oh, to know you cared, at last, 
Came I not again! 



HOME 

Home, to the hills and the rough, running water; 

Home, to the plain folk and cold winds again. 
Oh, I am only a gray farm's still daughter, 

Spite of my wandering passion and pain! 

Home, from the city that snares and enthralls me; 

Home, from the bold light and bold weary crowd. 
Oh, it's the blown snow and bare field that calls me; 

White star and shy dawn and wild lonely cloud ! 

Home, to the gray house the pine-trees guard, 
sighing; 

Home, to the low door that laughs to my touch. 
How should I know till my wings failed me, flying, 

Home-nest, — my heart's nest, — I loved you so 

much? 

70 



WILD WEATHER 

The sea was wild. The wind was proud. 
He shook my curtains like a shroud. 

He was a wet and worthy wind: 
His hair with wild sea-crystals twined: 
His cloak with wild sea-grasses green; 
His slanted wings all gray and lean: 
And strange and swift, and fierce and free 
He cried, "Come out! and race with me!" 

I snatched my mantle wide and red, 
And far along the cliffs I fled. 

The cliff-grass bowed itself in fear, 
The gulls forgot what path to steer; 
Below the cliffs the broad waves broke 
In trampled ranks like fighting folk; 
71 



72 WILD WEATHER 

The ships with grisly sea- wrack blind, 
Dead-drunken, cursed that chasing wind. 

My lips with salt were wild to taste. 
I leapt : I shouted and made haste : 
Along the cliffs, above the sea. 
With mad red mantle waving free. 
And hair that whipped the eyes of me. 

And there was no one else but he, 
That great grim wind who called to me. 

Oh, we ran far! Oh, we ran free! 



DAWN-JOY 

Clean, clean as crisped water-cress 

The dawn-taste of the wind ! 
I got me out with hastiness, 

And not a look behind. 

The sleep fell off my eyes like scales, 

And off my feet like lead. 
As thoughtless Things with hooves and tails, 

I leapt, and tossed my head! 

The sleep swept off my heart like mist 

That blurs a sun-lit sea. 
I felt the keen blood curl and twist 

To every tip of me. 

73 



74 DAWN-JOY 

I felt as cherry-trees must feel 
When all their blossoms shake; 

Or like the black-bird routs that reel 
Around a rushy lake. 

I thought, "And so the Sun must thrill, 

Who strides upon his way, 
And sees the hushed earth-hollows fill 

With hving golden Day!" 

I thought, "And God Himself must know 

A Joy ten thousandfold 
More free and thirsty, when His low 

Dull earth grows glad and bold, 

And rocks and quivers in His hand, 
As I do, with the Spring 
Across the wild green-gilded land 
Unloosed and glorying." 



DAWN-JOY 75 

— Clean, clean as crisped water-cress, 

The dawn-taste of the wind. 
My thoughts leapt high with heavenliness; 

My feet came close behind! 



NOW I WILL SADDLE THE SWIFT BROWN 
MARE" 

Now I will saddle the swift brown mare, 
And ride, and ride, to the sunset's death; 
With the wind like the hands of a star in my hair, 
And the white frost snatching my breath! 

— Shut the door where the old books stand 
Row on row in their musty cowls : 
Monks, with a scourge and a cross in each hand: 
Apes, and asses, and snakes, and owls! 

— Shut the door where the Gossips sit, 

Hugging the hearth, with their brew of tea: 

Picking men's lives up, bit by bit, 

Dropping them dourly and damningly. 
76 



• I WILL SADDLE THE SWIFT BROWN MARE " 77 

— Shut the door where my own Moods lie 
Faint and white on a silver bed : 
Dehcate damsels, dreams that die, 
Petals from pale white poppies shed. 

Oh, I will saddle the swift brown mare, 
And ride, and ride, to the forge-fire-sky! 
— Might I shoe her with stars that hang white-hot 
there. 
Cooled in the sea- troughs, hissing high! 

Might I spur her with goads of the ice that grows 
Sharp as steel on the mountain-lake ! 
Might I shout her the fierce gay song that blows 
Out of the west where the sun-ranks break! 

— ^Look, I am weary of Thus, — and So," — 
Mantles that mildew and swords that rust; 
Talk and trouble and meanness. Oh, 
Why should I stay to be choked with dust? 



78 " I WILL SADDLE THE SWIFT BROWN MARE " 

So, I will saddle the swift brown mare, 
And ride, and ride, to the red world's death. 
With the wind like the hands of a star in my hair, 
And the quick frost catching my breath ! 



TO THE NORTH 

I GIVE three calls to the North. 

Come forth! 
Come forth! 
Come forth! 

Out of the black fir-forests, where snow 
Hides in the hollow places; where blow 
Late spring winds; and the rivers run 
Ice-green, laughing with late spring sun; 
Out of the sharp white nights, too still, 
(Star upon star, as hill upon hill) 
Oh, like the fierce-foot rivers, set free, 
Come and awaken and trouble me! 

(Name that I cannot cry, 
Face that my dreams deny, 

79 



8o TO THE NORTH 

Feet that strode swift, — and yet 
Should I one hour forget? 
Shot from your life to mine, 
Blazing and barbed, the Sign?) 

I give three calls to the North. 

Come forth! 
Come forth! 
Come forth! 

Here in my garden green 

Lilacs whisper and lean. 

Deep the grass at my door. 

Shadows and songs fly o'er. 

Out in the village street 

Clatter of wheels and feet; 

Children laughing, the chime 

From the church- tower telling the time; 

Hot May-sweetness, and I 

Weeding my rose-beds, cry 



TO THE NORTH 8i 

Over the bristling hills to the North, 
Hear me! Come forth! Come forth! 

Can you not run down a mountain-side 
Like a rude green river's rock-roughened tide? 
Fly over forests of black-peaked firs 
Like an eagle, proudest of voyagers? 
Sweep like a notable wind to me, 
Laughing and cold-lipped, to set me free? 

How can I wait so long? 

Till the bob-o'-link slackens his song; 

Till the roses have blossomed and blown. 

And the little round apples have grown 

Green on my twisted tree? 

Can you not set me free 

Now, while I cry to you? 

Now, while the sweet nights through 

I lie in the dark and feel 

Life like a mad flame reel 



82 TO THE NORTH 

Over the floors of my heart? 
Now, while the wild dreams start 
Clamoring out of the night and noon, 
Under the clear sun, under the moon, 
Clamoring, while I go 
Soberly to and fro? 

How can I wait? I stand 

And cry to you. Heart and hand 

Reaches to you. Give heed! 

I, in my garden, bleed 

Small dark blood-drops of need. 

— Great bees blunder and croon, — 
Church-bell chiming high noon, — 

O, like the fierce-foot rivers, set free, 
Come! and awaken and trouble me! 
Come! For I need you mortally! 



TO THE NORTH 83 

I give three calls to the North. 

Come forth! 
Come forth! 
Come forth! 



UP ON THE MOUNTAIN 

Up on the mountain, where nobody comes, 

(But the wild wind walks, and the wild bee hums,) — 

Up on the mountain, where nobody spies, 
But the shy ones, the swift ones, soft-footed and 
wise, — 

There in the singing and coolness and height, 
With the thrush-voice all day and the brook-voice 
all night, — 

There will I wander, and there will I rest. 
As a deer in the fern, as a bird in the nest. 

Far from the faces that stare and are blind; 
From the cold hidden heart, and the cold crooked 
mind, — 

84 



UP ON THE MOUNTAIN 85 

Up on the mountain where nobody sees, 

I will sleep like a leaf of the green simple trees. 

I will fold in my heart all my wonder, and sleep. 
While the white stars drift, and the white hours 
creep. 

— ^And far from the wind and the stars and the hill 
I will wake in the hot nights and smile and lie still, 

As I feel on my eye-lids the hands of the night, 
Like an echo of leaf-song, a star's straying light. 

Oh, under the labor and blindness and heat 
Shall be music to lure me and lighten my feet, — 

Beating, 

"Up on the mountain, where nobody comes, — 

But the wild wind walks, and the wild bee hums, — 

And the wild bee hums — " 



"THE STARS GO BY" 

Under the Lake he growls and he groans, 
Tossing and twisting his frosty bones: 
Grim old Giant! — but never we 
Will chop the ice out and set you free; 
Never we, while the moon rides high, 
And the stars go by, and the stars go by, 
As over the gray-glass Lake we fly! 

Nearer, nearer, the black shores swing. 
Laugh and lean while the steel blades sing: 
Laugh, and slip into silence. — See! 
The world is aching with splendor! Free, — 
Free of our bodies our light souls fly 
Up, where the cold moon freezes the sky, — 
Up, where the strange stars crowd into Space. 
Oh, have they stared into God's own Face? 

86 



"THE STARS GO BY" 87 

Folding their flames in the Flame of God, 
Over His terrible threshold trod? 

Oh, we are thirsty of light, — of light, — 
Space, — and silence — and God — to-night. 
How can we hide them forever, deep 
In our hearts from the dun days' struggle and 
sleep? 

Hide them, and know till we die, that we 

Are free of the flames of Eternity, — 

Freer than falling stars are free? 

Ah, but our bodies grow stiff and cold: 
Stars are shifting: the night is old. 
We must come back out of Space, and see 
How far it is to Eternity ! 

So, from the shadowy pine-tree-shore. 
Back to our bodies ! swing free once more ! 
Chase the blurred moon whisking away 
Down at our feet in the mirror gray: 



88 "THE STARS GO BY" 

Laugh, and lean to the steel blades' song, 
Flying along,— oh, flying along! 

But — there's a star shoots over the hill. 
Hush. For our souls are too thirsty still, 
Thirsty, trembling with utter light. 
Hush. We are going. 

Worlds, good-night! 



STORM DANCE 

The water came up with a roar, 

The water came up to me. 
There was a wave with tusks of a boar, 

And he gnashed with his tusks on me. 
I leaned, I leapt, and was free. 

He snarled and struggled and fled. 
Foaming and blind he turned to the sea, 

And his brothers trampled him dead. 

The water came up with a shriek. 

The water came up to me. 
There was a wave with a woman's cheek 

And she shuddered and clung to me. 
I crouched, I cast her away. 

She cursed me and swooned and died. 

Her green hair tangled like sea-weed lay 

Tossed out on the tearing tide. 
89 



go STORM DANCE 

Challenge and chase me, Storm! 

Harry and hate me, Wave ! 
Wild as the wmd is my heart, but warm, 

Sudden and merry and brave. 
For the water comes up with a shout, 

The water comes up to me. 
And oh, but I laugh, laugh out! 

And the great gulls laugh, and the sea! 



THE BLACK WITCH 

Ye have driven me out from your court and your 
kirk, 
From your market-square and your mill; 
Ye have branded my name, ye have wasted my 
work, 
Ye have done me a deadly ill. 

Ye have chased me to crags where the eagles cry. 
And the sharp sun swallows the dew. 

A Witch and a Devil's Wife am I? 
Then why should I come to you? 

The Black Plague walks in your shuddering street; 

Your dead like herring lie thick. 
With mantles over your mouths ye meet. 

Ye take the dead for the quick. 
91 



92 THE BLACK WITCH 

God's Faith! My witchcraft could help you now; 

My devils could daunt your death! 
But I will stand under my rowan-bough 

However ye waste your breath. 

I will not come down, I will not come down, 

Nor weave you one wizardry, 
Though all the roofs o' the little red town 

Go tumbling into the sea. 

Though all the cracks o' the craggy Rock 

Gape wide as the mouths o' Doom, 
I will stand at the crest and make you a mock 

Till ye long for the grave's gray gloom. 

Black Plague! Black Plague! push open their 
doors ! 

Lie down in their beds this day! 
Heavy and hard are my ancient scores. 

Black Plague! but we make them pay! 



THE BLACK WITCH 93 

Oh, up and up in the face of the sun 

My voice like a flame shall flee, 
With Curse on you, Curse on you, every one, 

Who wrought such a curse on me! 



RIDE 

Lean in the saddle and look aside. 
Ride! 

Turn the flame of your face away. 
It is white as a tree in May. 
It is bright as a star at sea. 
It is terribly dear to me. 

Lean in the saddle and look aside. 
Ride! 

Black-maned Balor is proud of you, 
Racing down in the dawn-red dew; 
Racing down with the dust behind, 
(Crackling lash of the sun and wind,) 

94 



RIDE 95 

Black-maned Balor will never see 

Here in the bushes the eyes of me, 

Staring out like a fox in lair, 

Hungering out through my clotted hair, 

Pulling you from the saddle, down, 

Down through the fern and the bracken 

brown, 
Down, to the hollow where I lie, 
TrembHng to feel your face flash by. 

Ah, but you must not see — not see! 
You must never look once at me. 

Days gone by, and I rode with you 
Over the dust and under the dew: 
Light and perilous, rash to ride. 
Laughing, high as a hawk with pride. 

Now I kneel in the brake and hide. 
(Ride.) 



96 RIDE 

Oh, if I might stand clear and cry, 
"Look! It is I again! It is I!" 
Swing you down from the saddle, — No! 
Turn the flame of your face and go! 
Watch the white clouds up in the wind; 
Laugh for the keen miles cast behind. 
Look not down at the burnt road-side. 

Dogs that have bitten must slink and hide. 
— God! that I loved you and hurt you! — See, 
I will not ask for one look at me. 
Safe as a star in the sky-ways wide 
Ride! 

Galloping hoofs on my heart, my pride. 
Love of me. Love of me, lean aside! 
RIDE! 



ROMANCE 

Come over the waters and find me! 

The weeds by the wet shore bind me. 
The water-snakes float 
Round my slime-dragged boat, 

And the clouds of the sun-dust blind me. 

Come over the waters and hold me! 
Hot fingers of Horror enfold me. 

My white swan lies dead 

In his nest blood-red, 
But the marsh-geese chase me and scold me. 

Come over the waters and woo me! 
The rude Marsh-People pursue me. 

From tussock and brake 

They leer and they shake 
Their hairy hands holden unto me. 

97 



gS ROMANCE 

Come over! Come over! Come over! 

Beautiful Sunrise Lover! 
Come over the hill of the waters ! 

— I am one of a great King's daughters: 

1 am fair, I am sweet, 
From my head to my feet; 
I am young as the day; 
Yet my heart grows gray 

Ere the terrible charm be broken: 
Ere the dawn- word swiftly be spoken: 

And my boat swing free 

To the clear blue sea, 
And the sin of my race be wroken! 

Come over! I cry unto thee. 

I cover my face and sue thee. 

The Marsh Men seize and enslave me! 

Come over the waters and save me! 



O MY LOVE LEONORE 

O MY Love Leonore ! O my lithe Lady ! 

Is it the Grave you are gracing to-night? 

Is your breast cold now and covered with white? 

Are you grown stiff, who were lissome and light? — 

Are they the plain coffin-planks that you see, 
Narrow for feet that were flying and free. 
Rude for white hands that wove spells over me? — 
O my Love Leonore, — my lithe Lady? — 

Is your cheek cool of the flush that I fanned? 

Must you not dance now, nor once wave your hand? 

Can you not laugh, through the small stones and 

sand, — 
O my Love Leonore! O my h the Lady? — 

99 



lOO O MY LOVE LEONORE 

— It is the Grave I am gracing to-night. 

I am clay-cold now, and stiff-limbed, and white. 

A great Lord, DEATH, hath me in this plight. 

O my Love Leonore, my lithe Lady, 
If he, the great Lord, lays hands on your hand, 
He will not help you to dance or to stand ; 
Nor from your eyes brush the small stones and 
sand. 

Therefore farewell. Whom he wooeth is won. 
Therefore farewell. I am jealous of none. 
Are not both dancing and dying soon done? 
O my Love Leonore, — my Uthe Lady? — 



THE CHANGELING 

I HAVE two horns upon my head. 
They please me, being garlanded 
With creepy pine, and berries red 
From some old secret hawthorn-tree. 

I have two horns, and hoofs also : 
Brown questing hoofs, that clip and go 
Over the mountain, high and low, 
From sky-crack to the droning sea. 

My Mother would have shame of me 
If she could see — if she could see 
Those horns and hoofs that make too free 
With what she bore and bred so straight. 



I02 THE CHANGELING 

She taught me to be still and good; 
To walk demure as maidens should ; 
Wear dainty slippers, silken snood, 
And not come loitering home too late. 

But now I dance, I dance all night, 
By faint star-light or fierce moon-light, 
Over the mountain, — till the white 
Dumb dawn comes fingering, soothing me. 

With whom I dance, with whom I sing, — 
Why need my Mother know this thing? 
In my green chamber slumbering 
She finds me sweet and white, when she 

Strokes down my curls. She does not know 
Two horns beneath her fingers grow; 
Rough horns: and I have hoofs also, 
Not feet like pale flow'rs on the floor. 



THE CHANGELING 103 

Oh, if you met me on the hill, 
Moon-maddened, dancing to my fill, 
O Mother, could you love me still,— 
This wild-heart thing you never bore? 



HOOFS IN THE DARK 

I WAKE in the night, and my heart says, "Hark!" 
I lie like a corpse in my cool white place. 
For hoofs go by in the dark, in the dark. 
I turn on my pillow and bury my face. 

The night is a tomb that smothers and sounds. 
The night is a cavern uncressetted. 
The blood in my ears like a mallet pounds. 
My heart goes wild and my eyes see red: 

Red and purple with prickling hght, 

Terrible broken hght like glass. 

For your hoofs go by in the breathing night, 

And I dare not call you nor see you pass. 

104 



HOOFS IN THE DARK 105 

Loud on the bridge and up the hill, 

Low and dull on the turfy lawn: 

You ride with the wind, at the dark wind's will, 

With the alien stars, an hour ere dawn. 



When I am dead, and the tapers burn, 
As stiff and pale in my place I lie, 
What shall I do if I cannot turn 
And bury my face when the hoofs go by? 

What if my body rose in its shroud. 
And leaned Hke a mist the casement through. 
Being no longer mortal and proud, — 
Questing you, calling you, claiming you? 

Would you draw rein? Would you see my face 
Wan with wonder and love and death 
Shine out once from the window-space, — 
Shine, then fade with the frost's white breath? 



io6 HOOFS IN THE DARK 

Would you draw rein? Who knows? The tide 
Of my blood runs high, and my heart says "Hark ! " 
I have long to live, while you ride — you ride — 
Out in the dark; out there in the dark. — 



''WHAT I DESIRE TO SAY" 

What I desire to say will not be caught in words. 

— I have been on the hills to-day, hearing strange 
leaves and birds. 

I have been on the city street, hearing the pave- 
ments groan. 

Now I am come again, glad of your face alone. 

Here in the quiet house, where the soft night 
walks through 

Window and open door, whispering to me and 
you,— 

Here, where no stranger sounds than the far bell- 
chimes come, — 

Here, being most at peace, yet am I far from 

home. — 

107 



io8 "WHAT I DESIRE TO SAY" 

Even as if the stars started and strained in 

space, — 
Even as if the winds shook Heaven's audience-place. 
Pressing the sapphire walls, out, till they cracked 

and rent, — 
So in my side my heart strains through our still 

content. 

— You, that of all the world know the wild ways 

Igo,— 
(You, flying farther yet, sweeping more high, more 

low,) 
Even to you, to-night, I must be dumb as death. 
What I desire to say dies ere I give it breath. 



N 



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